


How We All Hope

by FollyOfWinchester



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Behind the Scenes, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Headcanon, I said I would never post this but here we are..., Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, My First Fanfic, Post The Great Game, Season/Series 01 Spoilers, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Virgin Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FollyOfWinchester/pseuds/FollyOfWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What were Sherlock and John thinking in the aftermath of the pool confrontation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red Dots

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic I have ever written, and at the age of 25 no less, so please be gentle if you can. I've got 12 or 15 years of lost time and practice to make up for and I'm certainly no creative writing major. I know it's nothing particularly original and it's definitely been done before, but here's my take on it. 
> 
> Significant editing assistance was provided by my fanfic mentor [Mertiya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya), but the fic has not been Brit-picked. If you would like to do so, please let me know! I welcome any and all comments and suggestions!
> 
> I do not own Sherlock and do not profit monetarily from anything herein.

Sherlock's mind hums in an adrenaline-induced arousal that has not faded since he and John left the pool side. _John in danger. Moriarty so close. Red dots. Save John. John grabs Moriarty. 'Sherlock, run!' Trying to save me. Trying to die for me. Die for me? 'I will burn the heart out of you.' Heart racing. Moriarty leaves. John. Is John alright? Is John alright?! Remove the danger. Remove the coat. Safe. Not dead. Not safe. Shoot the bomb and shield John? Snap. Not necessary. Safe. Safe. Not dead. Die for me?_

_John would die for me._

As they cross the threshold of the door into their flat, Sherlock is overcome by the realization. _John would die for me._ He repeats it in his head like a mantra until he accidentally mutters, "...for me." John looks up at him as he closes the door. As their eyes meet, Sherlock shoves him against the wall and kisses him. Thoroughly confused, John struggles beneath his grip and mumbles, "Sherlock?" through his occupied lips. As if awakened from a dream, Sherlock releases his hold and rushes off into his bedroom, shutting the door with a graceful flourish.

John slides down the wall, bewildered. "What just happened?" He stares blankly for a few moments trying to sort it all out. His best friend had just kissed him, passionately even, in their shared flat and then left him, alone, as if it were a huge mistake. The look in Sherlock's eyes as he undid the explosive vest, tore it from John's chest, and flung it away from them came to his mind. _It was pure terror. He was afraid...for me? This man, this sociopath, this brilliant, exciting, amazing sociopath, was afraid for my safety?_ He glances toward Sherlock's bedroom. _Nothing ever happened to me, and then I met him. I was so alone, and then I met him. I was so alone..._

He still feels the places where Sherlock's hands had pushed into his shoulders and the warmth of Sherlock's lips on his. He swallows. After a few more moments, he rises from where he had been crouched and makes his hands into fists at his sides. He starts to take a step toward Sherlock's bedroom, but thinks better of it. He starts to take a step toward the kitchen for a drink, but thinks better of it. _Sherlock's lips._ He swallows again. "Cold shower it is then." He heads for the bathroom.

The chill of the water does little to remedy the situation. "How can I have these thoughts of you? I'm not-we're both-" he sighs, "And why did you...why did you...?" His hand slips around his cock with cold water still beating on his back, but abruptly drops back to his side. "No!" he hisses, and then whispers, "I will not do this. I simply cannot do this." His face softens, "But...I don't want to be alone anymore." His resolve waivers and his hand sneaks back into position. _Sherlock's eyes on him. Sherlock's hands on him. Sherlock's lips on him. Sherlock!_ "Sherlock!" His legs weaken as he finishes. "Christ," he mutters as he cleans himself up. "In a cold shower, no less."

~*~


	2. Morning Wouldn't

The next morning John is jumpy and pensive. His eyes follow Sherlock as he wanders around the flat in his dressing gown acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the last 24 hours. _Sherlock's lips. I don't want to be alone anymore._ After several awkward minutes of silence considering how to approach the situation, John gives up and files it under "to be brought up later" and tries to force it from his mind. He busies himself writing his blog until Sherlock interrupts.

"What are you typing?"

"Blog."

"About?"

"Us."

"You mean me."

"Why?"

Sherlock clears his throat. "Well you're typing a lot." _He wouldn't blog about it. Especially not the bit in the shower. Too embarrassing. The bit in the shower. Too personal. Confirms everyone's suspicions. But he's thinking about it. The bit in the shower. 'In a cold shower-'_ Sherlock's train of thought is interrupted by the doorbell.

"Right then." _The bit in the shower._ "So." _In the shower._ "What have we got?"

~*~


	3. Good Sense

_I'm going to bring it up. I need to bring it up. I don't want to be alone anymore._ "You're more human than you make yourself out to be, you know."

Sherlock pivots on his heels with a lit blow torch in his hands and adjusts his goggles. "What?"

"I'm just saying that you're actually quite human, now and then." A nervous smile works at the corners of John's mouth and his cheeks flush. _Sherlock's lips._ He glances down for a moment to get away from Sherlock's intense gaze.

"Look John, if this is about that cold shower you took-"

"What?! Oh, God! No! How did you-?"

"-then don't mention it."

"Look, I-I can't believe you-Sherlock, I'm not gay, but-"

"Neither am I." He surprises himself with the absolute coldness of his own voice. "Just...don't mention it." He turns back around and walks into the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind him. _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why did I kiss him?! Caring is not an advantage. Caring is not an advantage. John would die for-caring is not an advantage. The bit in the-CARING IS NOT AN ADVANTAGE..._ He starts clattering objects around the kitchen to appear busy as he thinks.

Severely rattled, John moves his eyes to his computer, but doesn't see anything. _'Don't mention it.' Don't mention it? He's heard me wanking in a cold shower and shouting his name and I can't mention it? ...Actually, that makes good sense._

~*~


	4. The Women

Seeing Sherlock wrapped in nothing but a sheet, ghostly white chest exposed just slightly, on a computer screen is one thing, but when John sits down beside him in said state he can hardly contain himself.

"You wearing any pants?"

"No."

"Okay."

John is glad to able to mask his nervousness with amusement about being in Buckingham Palace with a very nearly naked man, and to be distracted from staring at Sherlock by the entrance of Mycroft and a potential client. After an exchange of pleasantries (if one could call it that when Sherlock is involved), Sherlock attempts to decline the case. As he is walking away, Mycroft steps on his sheet and disrobes him from the waist up.

John's eyes open wide. _Damn it! Don't look at him. Don't look at his bare skin. Don't mention it._

"Get off my sheet!" Sherlock snarls at Mycroft.

"Or what?" his brother sneers at him.

"Or I'll just walk away." John is lost in his own imagination for a moment.

"I'll let you."

"Boys, please, not here." John cuts in to break up the sibling feud trying to appear as though he wants Sherlock to get dressed, but still holding out the hope that he will ignore the scolding and walk away instead.

Once Sherlock is clothed and settles into discussing the case seriously, John reminds himself that Sherlock seems to have forgotten all about kissing him. _Probably 'deleted' it. Why can't I just let it go? Why can't I stop thinking about him? I'm not gay. He's not gay..._

"...The Woman." Mycroft's words snap John back to the discussion for a moment.

His mind wanders to the date he's planned for later that night. _A woman. That's what I need. A real woman._

~*~


	5. High Flying

"Okay, maybe _I_ need a woman, but _you_ don't need _that_ woman. She gets you to open a trapped safe, probably hoping it will kill you. She's untrustworthy. She drugs you. She's too forward. I don't like her, Sherlock," John remarks, sitting on the edge of Sherlock's bed. 

John starts as Sherlock, still mostly clothed, squirms under the sheets and mumbles incoherently. John looks at his face, at the bruise on his left cheek, and sighs. "You don't like her, do you, Sherlock? I just don't trust her. I don't like her at all," he averts his eyes, "and no, I'm not jealous. Why would I be jealous?" He looks back over at Sherlock, who has stopped thrashing and is breathing evenly. "Maybe I can't mention it, but..." He leans over and kisses Sherlock's cheek where he had punched it, gets up quickly, and quietly shuts the door behind him.

 _What's gotten into me? Why did I kiss his cheek like that?_ John sits in his favorite chair lost in thought. _I'm not gay. I'm not jealous. ...He seemed to really enjoy her company. ...He opened her safe by looking her over-I'm jealous._ He calls his date and cancels.

"John." Sherlock's eyes shoot open. _Where's John? He's jealous. Did what I had to. She's a case. She's not him. Should tell him. Can't tell him. Caring is not an advantage._ "John!"

"You okay?" John's face peaks through the door.

"How did I get here?" _You carried me. To bed. Safe._

 _Don't mention it. Talk about something else._ "Well, I-I don't suppose you remember much. You weren't making a lot of sense. Oh, I should warn you, I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone." 

_Can't tell him. Talk about her._ "Where is she?"

"Where is who?" _I don't want to know where she is._

 _Stay focused._ "The Woman, that woman."

"What woman?" _I don't want you to know where she is._

 _Focus._ "The Woman. The Woman woman!"

"Oh, Irene Adler. She got away. No one saw her. She wasn't here, Sherlock." _I hate her._

Sherlock falls to the ground and begins to crawl toward the door. _Escape. Can't tell him._

"What are you-what? No no no no." John picks Sherlock up under the armpits and tosses him back into bed. "Ah, back to bed. You'll be fine in the morning. Just sleep."

"Of course I'll be fine. I am fine. I'm absolutely fine." _Because you're here._

"Yes, you're great. Now I'll be next door if you need me." _You don't need me. You want her._

"Why would I need you?" _I need you._

"No reason at all." John shuts the door behind him. _You want her...I'll leave you to it then. No reason at all to stop you finding someone. No reason at all..._

Sherlock closes his eyes. _I need you._

~*~


	6. Tube Series

Sherlock turns the collar of John's least conspicuous coat up against his neck and pulls his scarf farther up over his nose as he hurries away from the cab and around the corner. His jogging bottoms hang loosely around his hips and he adjusts them as he continues down the street. _Must hide. Can't be seen here._ He sneaks into a shop and flattens himself against the door once inside. His eyes scan the walls and ceiling for cameras. _Only one. Fixed viewpoint. Easy to avoid._ The cashier rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head. "We get all kinds in here, you know. You don't have to be quite _that_ embarrassed."

Sherlock ignores her and move smoothly toward a rack of assorted tubes and bottles. His eyes focus on a particular bottle with a label reading "Maximus" and he looks over at the cashier. She's texting. He snatches the bottle quickly from the rack and drops it into one of the larger pockets of John's coat. He walks slowly back toward the door and the cashier looks up, "Leaving empty-handed?"

"You-you didn't have what-what I needed," he responds in a faked shaky voice.

"Well, sorry love. You looked...pretty determined. You know, there's another adult shop down the street-"

"It's-it's fine." _It's all fine._ "I'll figure something out." He smirks under his scarf as he slips back out of the shop.

When he gets back to the flat John is still out with Stamford having a drink at the pub. _As expected. Privacy. Undiscovered._ He quickly removes the bottle from John's coat pocket and stashes it in a desk drawer under some assorted papers. He tosses John's coat back on the coat rack as he found it, removes his scarf from his face, and throws on his dressing gown. He hunches over John's laptop on the coffee table and continues where he left off. _Maximus lubricant. Check._

__

~*~ 


	7. Raw Situation

Sherlock stares out the window, holding Irene Adler's phone in his hand. He smiles at the last text, proof of a case well and truly solved. _John's footsteps. I need him. Should tell him. He would die for me._

"John."

John is raw from the whole situation. All the jealousy, Irene's lies, her texts, her...noises, confusion about his own feelings for Sherlock, her fake death, her real death, lying to Sherlock for Mycroft. He can barely handle it all, but tries to hold it together for Sherlock's sake. "What?" he replies flatly from the doorway.

Sherlock looks at him, smiling and holding Irene's phone. _Tell him._

John can't take it anymore. He clenches his fists at his sides and loses the fleeting bits of sympathy he had for Irene as he marches into the room. "Sherlock?" he hisses roughly through clenched teeth. _I hate her._

Unfazed by the response, Sherlock looks back out the window. "Let's have dinner." _I need you._

John looks away, "Sherlock, honestly. I'm not hungry..."

Sherlock turns back toward John, the smile gone from his face. "Let's have dinner."

"I said I'm not-" John's mouth hangs open on the words. _Is he doing this on purpose? Is he trying to provoke me?_ "GOD, SHERLOCK! You know what, back then what I meant to say was...I'm not gay, but I-I can't stop thinking about you, so if-if you don't want me to mention it...I can't. And if you want to...'have dinner' with other people then DON'T KISS ME IN THE-"

Sherlock's mouth is on his. _Sherlock's lips._ John's hands grasp for Sherlock's hair and cheek. Sherlock rips John's coat off and squeezes his body against him. _You would die for me._ With a quick turn John is in his favorite chair with Sherlock straddling him. "I don't want to have dinner with anyone else. I didn't have dinner with anyone else. I've never...had dinner." Sherlock huffs breathlessly between kisses.

John pulls away. "But Irene?" _You want her. You want her here instead of me._

"She was a case, John. She's not you. I need you." _You would die for me._

"I would do anything for you, you know. I would have died for you, that day by the pool side. I was so alone before-"

Sherlock plunges his tongue into John's mouth and is rewarded with soft moans. Sherlock begins unbuttoning his own shirt and John follows suit, whispering "You know, I've never done this before either."

"Oh, I've been studying." Sherlock stands and practically throws John's trousers and pants off in one swift motion, sending them to the floor in a heap at his feet. He takes a moment to admire John's naked body. _Muscular. Scars. Above statistical average. Gorgeous. Amazing._ "Foreplay sounded boring," he grabs for a drawer in one of the disheveled desks in the flat and pulls out the bottle of lube, "so let's skip it." John's eyes widen, but quickly close again as Sherlock returns to kissing him. Despite his protests against foreplay, Sherlock lingers in an exploration of John's lips and mouth. He savors each new moan and whimper he draws from John and catalogs each for further study until John starts thrusting up against him. Without breaking away from John's lips, Sherlock finishes undressing and begins grinding against John's erection with his own. 

John lets out a long moan and braces himself against the chair. _Sherlock's lips on him. Sherlock's hands on him. Sherlock's cock against his own. Sherlock!_

"It's polite to ask your partner if he's ready-" 

"Sherlock, shut up!" John grabs for Sherlock's waist and pulls him closer. Sherlock steals a rough kiss and coats his middle finger with lube. He begins by rubbing small circles before easing it into John and is rewarded by a muffled whimper from John. He looks at his finger rhythmically disappearing into John and then up to John’s face. “Another?” John squeezes his eyes shut and nods almost imperceptibly. He watches his own hand in fascination as he removes his finger briefly to insert two. John bucks in surprise at the sudden pressure and grabs Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock stiffens, worried that he's done something incorrectly, but John shakes his head and pulls Sherlock down into another series of kisses that Sherlock will likely spend hours analyzing afterward. Sherlock grins widely and lathers his erection in lube. _Enough preparation. Preparation is boring._ He pushes himself into John inch by inch. "Sherlock!" John shouts through his bruised and busy lips.

No amount of "studying" online or wanking could have prepared him for how this felt. Sherlock's vision blurs and at John's shouts he loses control. Originally setting out to distance himself from the feeling in his mind so that he could extend his likely paltry stamina, he instead finds himself unable to focus on anything else. John writhes and moans beneath him, scratching at his hips and back as their tempo increases. Sherlock’s whole body feels like it's on fire. The pure sensation is too much for him. Every muscle tenses as he releases and stumbles backward, hardly lasting 30 seconds. As his body relaxes and his vision returns to normal, he forces John back into a sitting position and goes down on him with one graceful movement.

"Sherlock!" John moans and clutches Sherlock's hair in his fists, any protests to the short duration of the previous act stopped by the heat of Sherlock’s mouth around him. Sherlock continues with miraculous expertise until John can't hold it anymore. He tries frantically to push away as he cums, but Sherlock doesn't budge. He waits for John to look up at him and swallows.

"You-you're-I-we... Christ."

"Good, wasn't it?" _Not quite as expected. Next time will be perfect._

"I..." John sighs and goes boneless in the chair.

"Shall I?" Sherlock lifts John from the chair and carries him into the bathroom. "I anticipated you'd be tired after and you might want help with a shower."

John nods. "Sure, just make sure it isn't a cold one."

~*~


	8. Morning Would

The next morning Sherlock is serious and icy. When John comes down for breakfast he immediately starts talking. "John, we are not a couple. We will speak of this to no one."

John is crestfallen. "So, nothing then? All that talk about needing me and-"

"NO! I need you, John. After what happened yesterday, I can't go back to the way things were."

"Then why-"

"I don't want people to find out. I don't want to tell Mrs. Hudson. I don't want to explain to Molly. I don't want Lestrade to look at us strangely when we are out investigating. I don't want my brother to know that I've had sex. We don't hold hands, we don't kiss, we don't call each other relationship names, we don't refer to anything that has happened between us, none of that."

"But when we're here, alone in this flat?"

"I'm yours. Whatever you want."

"Those are your terms?"

Sherlock nods.

"But...it would be nice to have some way of letting you know I care whenever we're in public. What about calling one another 'friends' when we really mean 'lover' or 'boyfriend' or the like?"

Sherlock thinks for a moment. "I don't often use that word and it doesn't seem like it would provoke suspicions."

"We agree then?"

"Yes."

"Then, Sherlock, I have wanted to be your friend for _so long _." John smiles at him.__

Sherlock nods and slips into the kitchen. He leans back out for a moment to bellow, "AND DON'T PUT THIS IN YOUR BLOG!"

~*~

End.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>    
>  This fic is such trash and it causes me physical pain every time it gets a kudo OMFG.  
>    
> 


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